


Smells Like Home

by stilaheyy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilaheyy/pseuds/stilaheyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: Isaac accidentally wearing a sweater of stiles’ that was at Scott’s house because it smells good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smells Like Home

It gets cold at night in the McCall house, but Isaac is pretty sure it has little to do with the actual temperature. When he’s laying by himself in the guest room, implanted into a life that isn’t his, pushed out of the home he’d come to accept as his reality, he might as well be back in that tub of icy water straining for breath.

He’s wrapped in sheets and a comforter trying to get to sleep the way he has been for the last three hours when he realizes that he’s fashioned himself into something of a human burrito. That’s when he realizes how hungry he is.

The stairs creak and his door squeaks if he pushes it open all the way, so he hops and leaps his way downstairs, thankful for the aid of his werewolf-provided agility in his late-night binge. The sight of Pizza Rolls in the freezer has him grinning as he heads for the microwave, dumping the entire bag onto a plate and shoving it inside. As he watches it spin, a shiver rattles up his spine.

He sighs as he thinks about all of the dirty clothes heaped on the floor of the closet, of the sweatshirts and sweaters he’s worn too many times to get away with again, even to bed. The microwave beeps and he checks the rolls, finding over half of them still frozen solid. He’s always been bad at this stuff.

Once they’re cooking away—four minutes isn’t too long, is it?—he heads into the living room to grab the blanket from the back of the couch, but he finds something else there instead. It’s a Beacon Hills Lacrosse sweatshirt that isn’t his. He picks it up and sniffs it—all laundry detergent except a little…something he doesn’t quite recognize, but it smells  _good_. Comfortable.  _Homey_. It smells like he’ll be able to fall asleep easily wrapped inside of it, so he pulls it over his head, struggling its too tight fit over his shoulders.

After he eats his scorched Pizza Rolls, he creeps back up the stairs, making a mental note to apologize to Scott for stealing his shirt.

—-

The next morning, Isaac wakes up with a smile, nose buried in the fabric of that gray sweatshirt.

"Hey, let’s  _go_!” a voice booms from the hallway, his door flinging open to reveal a  _way_  too awake looking Stiles. “School starts in twenty minutes, but you know, go ahead and make us late. Don’t want to miss any of that precious beauty sleep, do you?”

Seriously, why was Stiles  _always_  there?

"I slept through my alarm. Give me two minutes," Isaac grumbles, shoving off the covers and standing, rubbing at his eyes.

"Oh, that’s where my sweatshirt went," Stiles says before leaving to give Scott’s door an enthusiastic kick.

Isaac looks down at himself with eyes open wide, not given even two seconds to process that the smell that had made him feel so  _right_  was actually  _Stiles_ before the guy in question is bodily dragging him into the hallway.

"I am not getting detention again because of you two. Pee, brush your teeth, and get in the Jeep because the Stilinski Bus Service is leaving in exactly one minute and thirty-four seconds with or without you," he orders, shoving Isaac at the bathroom before bounding down the stairs.

Isaac does as told and considers changing out of the sweatshirt, but hey, it isn’t his fault that he doesn’t have time. They don’t want to be late, after all.


End file.
